Zara sat quietly in the backseat of Damien's car as it glided through the city, her gaze locked on the raindrops racing each other down the window. The silence between them was heavy, not uncomfortable but weighted like both were thinking things they couldn't say aloud.
Damien glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "You've been quiet."
"I have a lot to think about," she replied softly.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel. "I get it. That party... it wasn't fair to you."
"It never is," she muttered under her breath, but he heard her. He didn't respond.
The ride to his penthouse was short. Zara hesitated before stepping out. She wasn't ready to face his world again the cold marble floors, the towering glass windows, the eerie quiet of a home that didn't feel like home.
But Damien opened the door for her, and the rain was getting heavier. She followed.
Inside, the warmth didn't reach her bones. The silence swallowed her again until Damien turned on the light and looked back at her.
"Are you mad at me?" he asked.
"No," she said, removing her heels slowly. "I'm mad at myself. For thinking maybe I had a place there tonight. For letting my guard down."
"You do have a place," he said firmly.
"No, Damien. I was just someone you brought in. They made that very clear."
He walked closer, his voice lower now. "My world is complicated. But I'm trying"
"Trying isn't enough!" Her voice cracked, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm tired of being humiliated. Tired of pretending I belong when I'm just a convenient arrangement."
Damien stepped back slightly, caught off-guard by her outburst. But he didn't retreat. "Then don't pretend," he said. "Be exactly who you are. The woman who speaks her mind. Who doesn't need approval."
Zara let out a shaky breath. "You say that, but your life is filled with people who wear masks. And I'm not like them."
"Exactly why I need you," he said quietly.
They stood in silence for a moment before he finally turned away, heading toward the kitchen. "You haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat anyway," he said, already pulling ingredients from the fridge.
Zara watched him in silence, her heart tangled in emotions she couldn't untangle. A part of her wanted to walk away. Another part wanted to lean on him for just a little while.
***
Later that night, she lay in the guest room, unable to sleep. The rain had calmed, but her thoughts hadn't.
She got up and walked out, quietly padding down the hall. She found Damien in his study, the soft glow of his laptop screen casting shadows on his tired face. He looked up when she entered.
"I couldn't sleep," she said.
"Me neither."
She sat across from him. "Celine... she knew something. About us. She asked questions she shouldn't have."
Damien's jaw tensed. "She's been digging. I should've warned you."
"Why didn't you?"
"I thought I could shield you."
Zara looked at him, eyes searching. "Do you trust me, Damien?"
He looked up, and for the first time, his guard dropped a little. "I don't trust anyone. But I believe in you."
It wasn't quite an answer, but it was the most honest thing he'd said in days.
***
Outside the penthouse, storms were building not just in the skies, but among those watching from the shadows. Damien's enemies were taking note of Zara now. And Celine wasn't finished.
And neither was Zara.